In the first of what I hope will become a series of chats and interviews with people in the biz, here’s an exclusive Q&A with Justin Trefgarne, Development Executive for Working Title Films. So pour yourself a skinny mocha latté and hunker down for some valuable insight into the development process…
------
Hello!
What advice would you give for those who would like to break into the business on the development side of things…?
There are a million answers to this question. I’d say the most important thing I look for is whether someone actually ‘gets it’ – ie do they convince you – is there passion backed up with knowledge. It’s not just about being able to say you’ve seen all the films released in the last six months or quoting all the good bits from Tarantino movies – it’s about whether you are tuned into the things that make stories dramatic. By this I mean the underlying, invisible qualities present in a piece of work. I personally call this the ‘mythic’ quality to a film – the thing that makes a work memorable, important and dramatically whole.
And I suppose informing that awareness is a sense of why you want to be in development in the first place, rather than something else in film. Again, when I meet people I’m always looking to be convinced in some way – I’m not talking about judging someone – it’s about finding their passion, their humanity – things that I hope they’d be looking for in me as well. It’s only in the meeting of minds that we can ever properly develop material of value.
On a practical side you need to be able to express yourself both verbally and on paper. Sounds obvious but you’d be amazed at how many people fall at either one or both of these hurdles. So much of what we do is dominated by these core skills – and yet our biggest issue is finding people who really shine in these areas. And the best way of developing them is to work as a reader – reading scripts for whoever, whenever you can and finding novel ways of getting your point of view across.
I worked as a reader before my first break which was working for a director, which brings me to my other point – experience of production. Good development people have spent some part of their life actually seeing a movie get made. Short films, TV films, features, whatever. The problem with just developing stuff is that until you’ve actually been in a production environment it’s all just academic. Get on a set and try and work out what everyone’s doing and why very few of them are actually looking at a script. Then go back to the written word and see what’s changed.
Another good way is by watching movies and then reading the scripts again – seeing how the realisation differs from the objectives of the screenplay. And ultimately it’s about tenacity – hard work matched with determination and street-savvy. Development jobs are tricky to hear about but it’s amazing how quickly really good people progress. Never close a door to an opportunity, however unlikely it seems at the time. And be nice to people.
What do you think is the secret to Working Title’s success?
Hard work, investment in the right things (ie talent and development), risk-taking, courage and the desire to make money, rather than languish on the fringes. And probably luck, though I’ve yet to really be convinced of what luck really is. Faith might be better – faith in people and the total desire to see certain situations come good.
How much emphasis is put on the writing process?
Until a film gets greenlit it’s all about the script. That’s not saying that the scripts are perfect – no script is ever perfect – but it’s about application – a realistic and determined drive to make the script into the thing that best sells the movie to your cast, investors, distributors etc. We invest an awful lot of time and money in development and when it pays off it always justifies the occasions when it doesn’t, if you see what I mean.
Do projects spend a long time in development?
Yes and no. Depends on the zillion variables that affect the process. Obviously the less time in development the better but life ain’t that simple.
How closely do you work with the writer?
I prefer to work as closely as possible – I like to really roll my sleeves up and get stuck in but with more experienced writers you may find yourself in less hands-on role. It depends on the kind of project but I guarantee you that any really good film has undergone this kind of forensic approach – by which I mean every single word has been gone over at some stage of its life – either with a script editor or more likely (and ideally) with a director.
How many script submissions do you receive a week?
Hard to say – as we don’t accept unsolicited submissions it’s fewer than you’d think. Probably around 10-15.
And how many scripts do you read a week?
Including the things I’m working on, which form the bulk of my reading load, probably 5-10.
Do you rely on the reader’s report or will you take a quick look at the script regardless of the reader’s verdict?
No. There’d be no point in having readers then.
Do you accept unsolicited script submissions?
No.
In your opinion, what are the common mistakes that most writers make in their spec scripts?
Oh blimey. This is a horrible question because it’s so negative – it’s always about what’s wrong over what could just be better. The things that crop up though are probably fairly simple in the end.
First is that most scripts don’t really know what they are – ie for whom are you actually writing this? People have very naïve expectations of what sort of material is going to appeal beyond a niche audience. If it’s just a niche audience you wanted to reach fine, but then the scale needs to correspond. In conjunction with this is that thing I was talking about – the ‘invisible’ quality to a piece of work. The thing that elevates it into the extraordinary rather than the ordinary.
How many people are really prepared to dig deep into their souls and find the heart of their work? I would argue not enough. As a result so much of what I read is just purely derivative, or half-baked or just plain dull. In movies, unlike say publishing, it’s about finding something different rather than just more of the same. Predictability is a disease in cinema and it’s killing our enjoyment. People want to write movies but they don’t want to do the living to get there. It’s not a God-given right – it’s a calling, something that takes over your life so you have to find the voice – the essence – that demands for this thing to be seen.
Even if it’s Ace Ventura there’s a good version and a bad version of that. Other things that are less intangible: tone, structure, pace, tone, tone… dialogue and usually top of the list: the story itself. As I said predictability is death. Compare a movie like The Island – dreadful, an abomination – with Seven – not dreadful – and you’ll see what I mean.
Your job is to entertain me and the last thing I want to see is a whole bunch of crap I’ve seen before. Surprise me! Be the audience for your own work – would you sit through this? If the answer is probably not you need to do some more work! I’m not saying make it weird, I’m saying make it fresh.
Do you have any ‘pet hates’ when you read a script?
Predictability.
If you could change one thing about the UK film industry, what would it be?
Its low aspirations.
There’s a growing consensus that UK screenwriters aren’t very good (or that there’s a significant lack of quality UK scribes) - do you think this is true or indeed fair?
Is there really or is it just the same old moaners moaning on? It’s a small country compared with the USA so obviously there are fewer Brits when positioned alongside their US counterparts, which they are always by virtue of sharing a language. I don’t have the numbers but I think it’s probably bollocks. What there are though is too many poorly conceived British movies.
What should a UK writer do to make their work more original and/or marketable?
You’ve just got to keep bashing away. I’d say it’s also helpful to have some people in your life who know what they’re talking about to read your work. But they have to be the right people – not the sort of people who are frightened of telling you the (constructive) truth.
Likewise you have to protect yourself from the negativity that pervades this kind of thing – you’ve got to really make sure that you don’t lose your self-confidence and that means avoiding the people (of whom there are many) who just want to make you feel bad.
Characters or structure?
Both.
And finally… if Orlando Bloom was in a fight with Colin Farrell, who do you think would win?
It wouldn’t be either of them that determined the outcome. It would be their lawyers.
------
Huge thanks to Justin for the Q&A.
Senin, 31 Oktober 2005
McKee
Well, it’s back to the drawing board with my idea for the Afternoon Play after my agent reliably informed me it was rubbish (not in so many words but clear enough for me to wake up and smell the Java). And dammit, he’s right of course, everything he pointed out being sound and valid. Constructive feeback like this is incredibly useful as it forces you to re-evaluate your idea and question why you came up with it in the first place and if it is something still worth developing.
In this instance, I have realised that I was trying to be cute and showy but that the idea and story line didn’t have enough substance to support the central conceit. In my haste to get something done for the deadline, I rushed an idea I thought might get by on its unique selling point. Apparently, the deadline isn’t strictly today, i.e. the end of the month, and there is a rolling deadline for submissions (but likely to finish soon). So I’m going to write up another idea that I’m far more interested in, and submit that instead.
Robert McKee is coming to town. Lock up your daughters. Er no, lock up your screenplays. He’s going to be in London between 18-21st November doing his four day genre weekend: Thriller Day, Horror Day, Comedy Day, Masterpiece Day. Last year, I attended his much feted Story Weekend and while it was interesting to sit in the man’s presence for ten hours a day over a three day weekend (boy, he likes to talk), he basically gave a polished routine of his book - Story - which you can buy for about a tenner instead of shelling out a few hundred quid for the Story Weekend.
His characterisation in Adaptation is a funny caricature of the man but essentially he’s a lot less austere than he’s become known for: he doesn’t like to be interrupted during his spiel, which is fair enough, but will set aside a Q&A before each session so you can harass him then. You can also join him for lunch and for a fag outside. McKee attracts the great and the good of the industry, from writers, script editors, producers, directors and actors. When I attended, the only faces I recognised from the 150 or so people in the auditorium were author Tony Parsons (apparently his 3rd time but he was absent the final day) and Mackenzie Crook (who’s a very good writer as well as his comic acting abilities).
I have less knowledge of his Genre Weekend so I cannot comment on what the separate workshops are like. A friend of mine went to the Horror Day and said it was good and useful, but a lot of it was common sense or reiterating what you already know of the genre or would glean from a whole weekend of watching classic horror films. In the Story Weekend, he deconstructs Casablanca at the end, which was a bit tiresome if you ask me, but in the Horror Day apparently he analyses Alien which my friend said was a particular highlight. I have heard that he pores over A Fish Called Wanda for the Comedy Day and Seven for Thriller Day.
Anyway, for those interested, registration can be done online at Mr McKee’s official website or by calling the London booking office at +44 (0)870 080 1833. Apparently, this Genre Weekend will be the only presentation of the Genre classes in London until 2007 so get yourself a ticket if you’re really keen to go.
Back to that PM Play idea…
In this instance, I have realised that I was trying to be cute and showy but that the idea and story line didn’t have enough substance to support the central conceit. In my haste to get something done for the deadline, I rushed an idea I thought might get by on its unique selling point. Apparently, the deadline isn’t strictly today, i.e. the end of the month, and there is a rolling deadline for submissions (but likely to finish soon). So I’m going to write up another idea that I’m far more interested in, and submit that instead.
Robert McKee is coming to town. Lock up your daughters. Er no, lock up your screenplays. He’s going to be in London between 18-21st November doing his four day genre weekend: Thriller Day, Horror Day, Comedy Day, Masterpiece Day. Last year, I attended his much feted Story Weekend and while it was interesting to sit in the man’s presence for ten hours a day over a three day weekend (boy, he likes to talk), he basically gave a polished routine of his book - Story - which you can buy for about a tenner instead of shelling out a few hundred quid for the Story Weekend.
His characterisation in Adaptation is a funny caricature of the man but essentially he’s a lot less austere than he’s become known for: he doesn’t like to be interrupted during his spiel, which is fair enough, but will set aside a Q&A before each session so you can harass him then. You can also join him for lunch and for a fag outside. McKee attracts the great and the good of the industry, from writers, script editors, producers, directors and actors. When I attended, the only faces I recognised from the 150 or so people in the auditorium were author Tony Parsons (apparently his 3rd time but he was absent the final day) and Mackenzie Crook (who’s a very good writer as well as his comic acting abilities).
I have less knowledge of his Genre Weekend so I cannot comment on what the separate workshops are like. A friend of mine went to the Horror Day and said it was good and useful, but a lot of it was common sense or reiterating what you already know of the genre or would glean from a whole weekend of watching classic horror films. In the Story Weekend, he deconstructs Casablanca at the end, which was a bit tiresome if you ask me, but in the Horror Day apparently he analyses Alien which my friend said was a particular highlight. I have heard that he pores over A Fish Called Wanda for the Comedy Day and Seven for Thriller Day.
Anyway, for those interested, registration can be done online at Mr McKee’s official website or by calling the London booking office at +44 (0)870 080 1833. Apparently, this Genre Weekend will be the only presentation of the Genre classes in London until 2007 so get yourself a ticket if you’re really keen to go.
Back to that PM Play idea…
Minggu, 30 Oktober 2005
Creative Screenwriting Magazine
For those in this country who are unaware of this American publication, and hence the weekly free e-mail newsletter CS Weekly, let me say this: subscribe to both straight away. If you’re not swayed by their practical and illuminating features and interviews in the mag, at least sign up to the free e-mail newsletter where they kindly inform you of the latest news, sales and internet interviews related to all things screenwriting. Reviews and comments are made from a writer’s point-of-view instead of the generic film critic mode of other so-called respectable practitioners.
Aside from Screen International in the UK, it’s the only other screen trade mag that I subscribe to and I would feel bereft if it didn’t wing its way over from the States to my humble doormat every month. It’s become a fine tool for both procrastination and inspiration; the editors and contributors are nearly all working screenwriters with respectable credits and experience. A must-have.
Aside from Screen International in the UK, it’s the only other screen trade mag that I subscribe to and I would feel bereft if it didn’t wing its way over from the States to my humble doormat every month. It’s become a fine tool for both procrastination and inspiration; the editors and contributors are nearly all working screenwriters with respectable credits and experience. A must-have.
Jumat, 28 Oktober 2005
Waiting
Well, I managed to rustle up an idea for the Afternoon Play. It’s always a bit frustrating with a brief that’s encouraging you to be “bold and aspirational” because although they’re sound and positive ideals, they’re pretty generic and unspecific as it’s so subjective as to what makes a bold and aspirational idea. Still, briefs are nearly always like this, which is fine as it perpetuates the myth of the storytelling process (“so like, how do you come up with ideas?”) and it gives you, the writer, a certain leeway to wow them with your creative spark if an idea of yours really hits home.
As a writer, you are continuously offered comments or questions like: “I don’t know how you do what you do”, or “how do you come up with ideas?” And although I try to maintain a certain allure and mystery as to how it’s all done, my response usually comes down to: “how to do you not come up with ideas; how could you not be inclined to sit down and write something?” It seems to me that ideas are everywhere and all around you. They may not be good ideas but that’s what the thought process is for - to sieve and filter the sludge of information waste to see if there’s any spark or jewel of potential left in your pan.
The more frustrating aspect of being a writer is not how to come up with ideas but how to cope with the waiting period in between submission and inevitable rejection. This waiting period is an aching chasm full of optimism, frustration, depression and delight. The optimism and delight usually stems from your mind trying to imagine the exec or reader’s reaction to your script: “wow, this is really great. Really, really great. Let’s commission this straight away”. This is usually followed a couple of days later with the more likely scenario being conjured up in your head: “Jeez, this is awful. Really, really bad. Did Danny really think this would pass?”
And as this frustration and depression sets in, the wait becomes longer and longer, until you have to chase them up to see where they’re at. You’re still holding on to a twig of optimism that they’re in love with your script and have taken so much time mulling it over because of the various bosses that need to be consulted. Usually however, you’ll chase them up, they’ll apologise, find your script near the bottom of their pile, read it over the next few days, and then give you a kind rejection straight away because you’ve chased them up in the first place.
Which begs the question: should I continue to wait for a response on my submission or should I get my agent to chase them to hurry it up a bit? It’s difficult to say what exact length of time is best to gauge what kind of reaction your project is receiving. Generally, the longer you haven’t heard, the more likely it’s a case that your script or pitch or outline, or bribe, has bombed. But on the other hand, producers and execs are incredibly busy people (really; constant distraction and pressure) so sometimes your script may have just got lost in their big spec pile and after a nudge from you, they may find & read, and hey, like it enough to have you in for a meeting.
It really is difficult to know exactly what’s going on behind closed doors so it’s dangerous to second guess what’s happeing or lapse into an easy sense of dread & disappointment (“there’s just no point”). Keep at it. Keep going. Waiting is part and parcel of being a writer but don’t sit around waiting. We're all guilty of it - I've been waiting for a rewrite reaction, and a few pitches I've made, and haven't done much proper writing since. It's important to stay busy and active with other ideas and projects so when the inevitable rejection does finally arrive, you can be psychologically past it because you’re busy with a script you’re more excited by.
All I've written this year has been Doctors and outlines for feature films, and I made the short film. Not bad. I've also rewritten one of my scripts in developoment but I haven't written something new, i.e. a full script, which is something I want to rectify before the year is out. My agent recently advised me not to write scripts anymore, just write outlines so I can be paid to write the script but I miss the spec experience. I like it. Maybe it's masochistic as the best they're ever likely going to be in this country is another good sample of your work but as a writer, there's a certain joy and satisfaction in expressing your story in its full and proper format.
I've got those outlines to develop to first draft as well as a couple of new ideas I'm excited about so I've now got to choose one of them to get on with if I'm going to complete a new script before Christmas. That should keep me ticking over while the waiting period goes on with all my other stuff that's "gone out there".
As a writer, you are continuously offered comments or questions like: “I don’t know how you do what you do”, or “how do you come up with ideas?” And although I try to maintain a certain allure and mystery as to how it’s all done, my response usually comes down to: “how to do you not come up with ideas; how could you not be inclined to sit down and write something?” It seems to me that ideas are everywhere and all around you. They may not be good ideas but that’s what the thought process is for - to sieve and filter the sludge of information waste to see if there’s any spark or jewel of potential left in your pan.
The more frustrating aspect of being a writer is not how to come up with ideas but how to cope with the waiting period in between submission and inevitable rejection. This waiting period is an aching chasm full of optimism, frustration, depression and delight. The optimism and delight usually stems from your mind trying to imagine the exec or reader’s reaction to your script: “wow, this is really great. Really, really great. Let’s commission this straight away”. This is usually followed a couple of days later with the more likely scenario being conjured up in your head: “Jeez, this is awful. Really, really bad. Did Danny really think this would pass?”
And as this frustration and depression sets in, the wait becomes longer and longer, until you have to chase them up to see where they’re at. You’re still holding on to a twig of optimism that they’re in love with your script and have taken so much time mulling it over because of the various bosses that need to be consulted. Usually however, you’ll chase them up, they’ll apologise, find your script near the bottom of their pile, read it over the next few days, and then give you a kind rejection straight away because you’ve chased them up in the first place.
Which begs the question: should I continue to wait for a response on my submission or should I get my agent to chase them to hurry it up a bit? It’s difficult to say what exact length of time is best to gauge what kind of reaction your project is receiving. Generally, the longer you haven’t heard, the more likely it’s a case that your script or pitch or outline, or bribe, has bombed. But on the other hand, producers and execs are incredibly busy people (really; constant distraction and pressure) so sometimes your script may have just got lost in their big spec pile and after a nudge from you, they may find & read, and hey, like it enough to have you in for a meeting.
It really is difficult to know exactly what’s going on behind closed doors so it’s dangerous to second guess what’s happeing or lapse into an easy sense of dread & disappointment (“there’s just no point”). Keep at it. Keep going. Waiting is part and parcel of being a writer but don’t sit around waiting. We're all guilty of it - I've been waiting for a rewrite reaction, and a few pitches I've made, and haven't done much proper writing since. It's important to stay busy and active with other ideas and projects so when the inevitable rejection does finally arrive, you can be psychologically past it because you’re busy with a script you’re more excited by.
All I've written this year has been Doctors and outlines for feature films, and I made the short film. Not bad. I've also rewritten one of my scripts in developoment but I haven't written something new, i.e. a full script, which is something I want to rectify before the year is out. My agent recently advised me not to write scripts anymore, just write outlines so I can be paid to write the script but I miss the spec experience. I like it. Maybe it's masochistic as the best they're ever likely going to be in this country is another good sample of your work but as a writer, there's a certain joy and satisfaction in expressing your story in its full and proper format.
I've got those outlines to develop to first draft as well as a couple of new ideas I'm excited about so I've now got to choose one of them to get on with if I'm going to complete a new script before Christmas. That should keep me ticking over while the waiting period goes on with all my other stuff that's "gone out there".
Kamis, 27 Oktober 2005
More BBC stuff
While I try to rack my brains to come up with an idea in time for the Afternoon Play, why not follow the links to find the description of development priorities for BBC Films, BBC Drama and CBBC.
BBC Films.
BBC Drama.
CBBC .
Also, here’s some interesting details about a TV Drama Writers’ Festival the Beeb are going to organise early next year. I don’t know how you apply for a place yet but take a look at the schedule for now:
TV Drama Writers’ Festival: 17 – 19 Feb 2006
A national festival giving professional writers the chance to exchange, develop and debate TV Drama in a fast changing world, with sessions from leading writers
For discussion:
• The writer in a multi channel world
• Innovation in action
• The writer as producer
• The challenges of writing for a long runner
• True Drama: fact v. fiction
• The art, the craft, the business of TV Drama
• From theatre to TV (West Yorkshire Playhouse)
• Representing the reality of Britain today - the writer's responsibility?
• The American influence - good or bad?
We'll be organising a couple of public screenings and Q&As (we may be premiering Tony Marchant's new serial), we're going to try and get a drama shot and cut and shown in the week before, using the latest cheap technology, and we'll have continuous screenings of archive and contemporary drama running in various spaces.
Writers/Execs to lead sessions (to be confirmed)
Paul Abbot, Jimmy McGovern, Debbie Horsfield, Tony Marchant, Tony Jordan, John Fay, Jane Tranter, John Yorke, Nicola Schindler, John Whiston, Tony Garnett, Kay Mellor, Ruth Caleb, Lucy Gannon, Sharon Foster, Russell T Davis, Stephen Butchard, Pete Bowker, Roy Williams, Peter Flannery, Alan Bleasdale, Adrian Hodges, Peter Kosminsky, Kwame Kwei Armah, Jed Mecurio, Burn it, Abi Morgan, Paul Greengrass Terry Cafolla, Andrew Davies
Draft Schedule
Thursday
pm - Reception
-Key note speech
-Premiere screening
Friday
am- group 1 or group 2
Break
am -group 1 or group 2 group 3 or group 4
Lunch + screening
pm - key note speech 2 + viewing
Break
pm – group 4 or group 5 or group 6 or group7
Supper
pm Screening of new work
Optional entertainment (writers pub quiz)
Saturday
am - Jane Tranter in conversation with……..
Around the event will be screens with selected dramas to watch - TV dramas that most inspired the panellists
Delegates
100 places to professional writers who apply (must have TV credit)
50 places allocated to Regional Screen Agencies to nominate and support key new talent
50 places allocated to execs and BBC nominees
Opportunity to announce winner(s) of TV series competition
£100 fee
BBC Films.
BBC Drama.
CBBC .
Also, here’s some interesting details about a TV Drama Writers’ Festival the Beeb are going to organise early next year. I don’t know how you apply for a place yet but take a look at the schedule for now:
TV Drama Writers’ Festival: 17 – 19 Feb 2006
A national festival giving professional writers the chance to exchange, develop and debate TV Drama in a fast changing world, with sessions from leading writers
For discussion:
• The writer in a multi channel world
• Innovation in action
• The writer as producer
• The challenges of writing for a long runner
• True Drama: fact v. fiction
• The art, the craft, the business of TV Drama
• From theatre to TV (West Yorkshire Playhouse)
• Representing the reality of Britain today - the writer's responsibility?
• The American influence - good or bad?
We'll be organising a couple of public screenings and Q&As (we may be premiering Tony Marchant's new serial), we're going to try and get a drama shot and cut and shown in the week before, using the latest cheap technology, and we'll have continuous screenings of archive and contemporary drama running in various spaces.
Writers/Execs to lead sessions (to be confirmed)
Paul Abbot, Jimmy McGovern, Debbie Horsfield, Tony Marchant, Tony Jordan, John Fay, Jane Tranter, John Yorke, Nicola Schindler, John Whiston, Tony Garnett, Kay Mellor, Ruth Caleb, Lucy Gannon, Sharon Foster, Russell T Davis, Stephen Butchard, Pete Bowker, Roy Williams, Peter Flannery, Alan Bleasdale, Adrian Hodges, Peter Kosminsky, Kwame Kwei Armah, Jed Mecurio, Burn it, Abi Morgan, Paul Greengrass Terry Cafolla, Andrew Davies
Draft Schedule
Thursday
pm - Reception
-Key note speech
-Premiere screening
Friday
am- group 1 or group 2
Break
am -group 1 or group 2 group 3 or group 4
Lunch + screening
pm - key note speech 2 + viewing
Break
pm – group 4 or group 5 or group 6 or group7
Supper
pm Screening of new work
Optional entertainment (writers pub quiz)
Saturday
am - Jane Tranter in conversation with……..
Around the event will be screens with selected dramas to watch - TV dramas that most inspired the panellists
Delegates
100 places to professional writers who apply (must have TV credit)
50 places allocated to Regional Screen Agencies to nominate and support key new talent
50 places allocated to execs and BBC nominees
Opportunity to announce winner(s) of TV series competition
£100 fee
Rabu, 26 Oktober 2005
Afternoon Play
If you haven’t seen it already, you can now check out my no-budget short, On the Death of His Wife, on Channel 4’s film website. It’s been chosen as this week’s ‘short of the week’. You can even place a vote and review it so feel free to go all Barry Norman on my ass.
Due to last week’s brief hiatus, I was unable to pick up any emails or staggering offers of work but one email in particular caught my interest. It’s the BBC’s Afternoon Play. No, not for radio, for BBC TV during daytime. It made its debut on BBC 1 in January 2003. The quality of the writing has ensured a wealth of popular and well-loved talent taking part in the plays. And now they’re looking to commission the next series of five one-hour stand alone dramas.
The only drawback is that the deadline is the end of the month which doesn’t give me, or you, a lot of time to submit. However, all they’re looking for at the moment is a one or two page outline (synopsis) so it’s not unimaginable to conceive something over the next few days that might be suitable. It may be too near the deadline but it's probably worth a shot nonetheless. Anyway, here’s the brief as outlined in the email:
“Characterised by bold ideas, and vibrant, aspirational stories, the strand is made up of standalone, one-hour dramas, with an emphasis on strong writing and the promotion of writers' visions and voices.
Transmitted on BBC1 in the afternoon, this critically-acclaimed strand is high concept and with an uplifting or inspirational theme - it's quite a flexible format in terms of content within this brief, always bearing in mind the tonality of daytime - but not as a barrier to taking risks. Any genre is open, except sci-fi and horror, but high concept 'real life' relationship based ideas tend to work better than ones that require a huge leap of faith (i.e. magic etc).
Submissions should take the form of a 1 to 2-page, easy-to-read synopsis.”
Oh, and here’s a bit of important info about writing for Doctors: “Due to the Doctors’ team involvement with the Writing Academy, and due to their general workload, they will not be actively looking at new writers until spring 2006. However, when their doors open again, they will consider strong calling card scripts. The best way to follow this up is through the BBC writersroom, which deals with promoting new writing talent to Doctors.“
Due to last week’s brief hiatus, I was unable to pick up any emails or staggering offers of work but one email in particular caught my interest. It’s the BBC’s Afternoon Play. No, not for radio, for BBC TV during daytime. It made its debut on BBC 1 in January 2003. The quality of the writing has ensured a wealth of popular and well-loved talent taking part in the plays. And now they’re looking to commission the next series of five one-hour stand alone dramas.
The only drawback is that the deadline is the end of the month which doesn’t give me, or you, a lot of time to submit. However, all they’re looking for at the moment is a one or two page outline (synopsis) so it’s not unimaginable to conceive something over the next few days that might be suitable. It may be too near the deadline but it's probably worth a shot nonetheless. Anyway, here’s the brief as outlined in the email:
“Characterised by bold ideas, and vibrant, aspirational stories, the strand is made up of standalone, one-hour dramas, with an emphasis on strong writing and the promotion of writers' visions and voices.
Transmitted on BBC1 in the afternoon, this critically-acclaimed strand is high concept and with an uplifting or inspirational theme - it's quite a flexible format in terms of content within this brief, always bearing in mind the tonality of daytime - but not as a barrier to taking risks. Any genre is open, except sci-fi and horror, but high concept 'real life' relationship based ideas tend to work better than ones that require a huge leap of faith (i.e. magic etc).
Submissions should take the form of a 1 to 2-page, easy-to-read synopsis.”
Oh, and here’s a bit of important info about writing for Doctors: “Due to the Doctors’ team involvement with the Writing Academy, and due to their general workload, they will not be actively looking at new writers until spring 2006. However, when their doors open again, they will consider strong calling card scripts. The best way to follow this up is through the BBC writersroom, which deals with promoting new writing talent to Doctors.“
Selasa, 25 Oktober 2005
Contacts
A couple of years ago, Bafta used to hold regular schmoozing events where writers could meet and mingle with heads of drama and important TV execs. These were free events - you didn’t have to be a Bafta member - and it also had a free bar so naturally I was there on every occasion. At first, I had my doubts that anybody of note would actually show up but when you saw the Head of ITV drama wearing a big hand-written name tag on his suit, you realised that perhaps the Bafta pedigree is truly a cut above the rest.
However, what would invariably happen at these events is that writers would end up chatting to other writers, getting drunk at the free bar and moaning about the commissioning editor across the room who had rejected our scripts the week before. After attending a couple of the evenings with this kind of routine, I tried to summon up the courage to actually go talk to a producer/exec/anybody who wasn’t a writer. This was easier than I had expected - I’m not shy but I’ll happily leave people alone too - and most producers were willing to have a friendly chat and give you their cards before they were nagged on their suits by another writer waiting to chew his ear off.
And so, it became a bit like speed-dating where you’d get an allocated five minutes to talk to an exec, get his business card, maybe give him one of yours too, and head to the bar before it ran out. These schmoozing events haven’t been on for a couple of years now. I don’t know if they are planning to stage any more but I keep a regular look-out in the Events section of Bafta’s website just to make sure.
Funnily enough, most of my useful contacts and leads have come from other writers. Which is the purpose of this post really (finally). Everyone you meet who is involved or attached to the industry in any way is a contact. Someone you can go to for a query, advice or help regarding your script, career, or what you want to do. The ever expanding role of the Internet has even seen blogging creating an on-line community of writers who are willing to dispense their pearls (Ted & Terry being the Gods of this new religion) and although they are on-line strangers, they usually all have their contact details on display for you to get in touch.
And just when I was getting fed up of constantly meeting other writers (at seminars, bars, Bafta etc) instead of producers and execs, I realised that these writers have a wide and varied contact list separate to mine that they are usually willing to share. I think it’s important to share, we need all the help we can get, so if I find out a contact or a lead that would be useful for someone I know or someone I’ve just met, I’ll let them know. Recently, a few opportunities have come my way, two of which were from a couple of writers I know, an other from a producer I met last week when we were going through the Mesh applications and one from the BBC writersroom because I made the final shortlist of the BBC Writing Academy.
I was hoping to write this post with at least one of these possibilities confirmed, they’re still pending, but in terms of contacts and meeting people, it’s all about getting to know just about everyone who’s involved in the biz, from the post room upwards, and building that momentum of contacts to the time when your name is a regular reference in their mind, and some commissioned work may come your way…
However, what would invariably happen at these events is that writers would end up chatting to other writers, getting drunk at the free bar and moaning about the commissioning editor across the room who had rejected our scripts the week before. After attending a couple of the evenings with this kind of routine, I tried to summon up the courage to actually go talk to a producer/exec/anybody who wasn’t a writer. This was easier than I had expected - I’m not shy but I’ll happily leave people alone too - and most producers were willing to have a friendly chat and give you their cards before they were nagged on their suits by another writer waiting to chew his ear off.
And so, it became a bit like speed-dating where you’d get an allocated five minutes to talk to an exec, get his business card, maybe give him one of yours too, and head to the bar before it ran out. These schmoozing events haven’t been on for a couple of years now. I don’t know if they are planning to stage any more but I keep a regular look-out in the Events section of Bafta’s website just to make sure.
Funnily enough, most of my useful contacts and leads have come from other writers. Which is the purpose of this post really (finally). Everyone you meet who is involved or attached to the industry in any way is a contact. Someone you can go to for a query, advice or help regarding your script, career, or what you want to do. The ever expanding role of the Internet has even seen blogging creating an on-line community of writers who are willing to dispense their pearls (Ted & Terry being the Gods of this new religion) and although they are on-line strangers, they usually all have their contact details on display for you to get in touch.
And just when I was getting fed up of constantly meeting other writers (at seminars, bars, Bafta etc) instead of producers and execs, I realised that these writers have a wide and varied contact list separate to mine that they are usually willing to share. I think it’s important to share, we need all the help we can get, so if I find out a contact or a lead that would be useful for someone I know or someone I’ve just met, I’ll let them know. Recently, a few opportunities have come my way, two of which were from a couple of writers I know, an other from a producer I met last week when we were going through the Mesh applications and one from the BBC writersroom because I made the final shortlist of the BBC Writing Academy.
I was hoping to write this post with at least one of these possibilities confirmed, they’re still pending, but in terms of contacts and meeting people, it’s all about getting to know just about everyone who’s involved in the biz, from the post room upwards, and building that momentum of contacts to the time when your name is a regular reference in their mind, and some commissioned work may come your way…
Selasa, 18 Oktober 2005
Blog Lite
Due to tedious circumstances beyond my control, I will be unable to fuel my blogging addiction (I need it baby, get me some) until oooh, next week, Monday say.
In the meantime, do spend a bit of time visiting our blogging friends and neighbours. Those of a sharp eye will have noticed some new additions, and some fine company they make too.
Most recent is James Moran’s blog which has actually been going for quite some time already, heaven knows how I missed it, especially as James writes about his experience of selling a script and actually getting it made (all genuflect in his general direction).
If that's not enough to tide you over, why not check out the Writers’ Guild article on how to break into TV.
Anyway, be safe, mind the buses and I’ll see you next week.
DS
In the meantime, do spend a bit of time visiting our blogging friends and neighbours. Those of a sharp eye will have noticed some new additions, and some fine company they make too.
Most recent is James Moran’s blog which has actually been going for quite some time already, heaven knows how I missed it, especially as James writes about his experience of selling a script and actually getting it made (all genuflect in his general direction).
If that's not enough to tide you over, why not check out the Writers’ Guild article on how to break into TV.
Anyway, be safe, mind the buses and I’ll see you next week.
DS
BBC Writing Academy
This year, the BBC launched a new writing initiative called the BBC Drama Series Writing Academy. John Yorke, the Controller of Continuing Drama Series, wanted a more focused search for the next generation of talented writers who could write for the BBC’s flagship shows like EastEnders, Holby and Casualty. The scheme has chosen its eight writers for this year but it’s likely that it will run again next year, so keep a look out for it.
One of the conditions of application was that potential writers would have had at least one film, television or radio drama script produced, or one theatre piece performed professionally. That left it open to professional writers, or semi-professional writers at least. This appealed to me because it meant that it wasn’t open to Joe Public and I just about qualified because although my Doctors episodes hadn’t been broadcast, they had been signed off, which made me eligible for the scheme. So I applied - what the hell. You had to send one of your scripts along with one of the standard BBC application forms.
To my surprise, I was invited in with the final twenty one candidates to Drama’s HQ in BBC Centre House (opposite BBC centre). We spent the day with the Head of New Writing, the Acting Head of Development and the Producer of the scheme. They reliably informed us that our work had been carefully read and selected from over 600 applicants, so we represented ‘the best and most talented’ writers who bothered to apply. They explained the shortlist procedure: we were going to spend the day together talking about the flagship shows, then we were going to do a couple of writing exercises from which we would be judged. A kind of Script Idol but without Simon Cowell.
Talking about the flagship shows was fun and our first writing exercise was to write a scene of our choice from one of the shows. I wrote a scene between Diane and Owen in Holby City - their relationship hitting the rocks - and while it wasn’t exactly Mamet, I was quite pleased given the one hour turnaround. Our overnight exercise (and deadline) was to write the first ten pages of an EastEnders script. They provided us with the previous story lines and relevant information that we needed to know, and we went on our merry way. I tried not to dwell on the exercise too much and wrote my ten pages and sent it off with an hour to spare on the deadline.
At this stage, I’m not expecting much. I’m quite pleased to have made it this far and while I think I have a fair chance of getting a spot, I don’t realistically expect to get through to the next stage (the final interview). But hey, I get called in for interview. This is with the aforementioned heads along with John Yorke (chief honcho) and Mervyn Watson (exec producer of Casualty). I’m nervous. I’ve met John Yorke before, he’s a really nice bloke, but the interview completely throws me and I fall flat on my face.
They warn me that they’ll be making notes during the interview, so they may not be looking at me the entire time, which is fine but as I try to answer their questions (“why do you want to be a TV writer?” “what went wrong with EastEnders?” “should the audience feel happy or sad?”) I notice that they’re not taking any notes at all, and they’re staring into space. I’m unnerved. John Yorke looks bored. Shit. I begin to second guess myself. Some of the questions they ask cover what we spoke about at the workshop so I wonder if they want me to reiterate or come up with something new to say. I blather between the two. Mervyn Watson asks me about Casualty, the show I’m least familiar with. I give him generic observations that quite rightly don’t make a jot of an impression. The interview ends very quickly - half an hour (they said it would take 45 mins) - and I leave shell-shocked and disappointed with myself.
Outside BBC Village, I have to sit down for a half an hour as my brain tries to fathom the situation. It’s the worst interview I’ve ever done in my life and I’m truly amazed at how it went away from me so quickly. I feel sick. Even though it’s not the be all end all, the scheme is a great opportunity to get your TV career on the fast track. In a daze, I somehow make it into town and meet my friend for much needed pints. I tell my agent how I’ve blown it. She’s got three other clients up for interview so I give her a heads up of what to expect. She tells me that one other client has already had his interview (must have been right after me) and he shared a similar demoralising experience. I put it aside, thinking I will not be offered a place, but my agent remains optimistic.
A couple of days later, a get a phone call from the Beeb. A phone call is good - rejections normally come in letter form - but this call is to tell me I won’t be part of the scheme. It’s as I expected so I’m not too downbeat. However, my agent’s three other clients all get offered a spot (even the guy who said his interview was just as bad as mine). Jesus, my interview must have been The. Worst. Ever. Must try harder.
Nevertheless, the experience grants me a meeting with Kate Rowland, head of the Writers’ Room, and she tells me of various opportunities (radio, the BBC Film Network etc). She puts me into contact with a radio producer and we discuss a few ideas and the BBC’s submission process (see previous post on the subject). And yesterday, I got a phone call from the Writers’ Room asking me if I’d be interested in a pitching session during the London Film Festival. Why thank you very much.
So, even though I didn’t get a place with the writing academy, it was an enjoyable (really) and worthwhile exercise that has afforded me a few new contacts. And that’s the name of the game really.
For a full breakdown of the writing academy and its schedule, click here.
One of the conditions of application was that potential writers would have had at least one film, television or radio drama script produced, or one theatre piece performed professionally. That left it open to professional writers, or semi-professional writers at least. This appealed to me because it meant that it wasn’t open to Joe Public and I just about qualified because although my Doctors episodes hadn’t been broadcast, they had been signed off, which made me eligible for the scheme. So I applied - what the hell. You had to send one of your scripts along with one of the standard BBC application forms.
To my surprise, I was invited in with the final twenty one candidates to Drama’s HQ in BBC Centre House (opposite BBC centre). We spent the day with the Head of New Writing, the Acting Head of Development and the Producer of the scheme. They reliably informed us that our work had been carefully read and selected from over 600 applicants, so we represented ‘the best and most talented’ writers who bothered to apply. They explained the shortlist procedure: we were going to spend the day together talking about the flagship shows, then we were going to do a couple of writing exercises from which we would be judged. A kind of Script Idol but without Simon Cowell.
Talking about the flagship shows was fun and our first writing exercise was to write a scene of our choice from one of the shows. I wrote a scene between Diane and Owen in Holby City - their relationship hitting the rocks - and while it wasn’t exactly Mamet, I was quite pleased given the one hour turnaround. Our overnight exercise (and deadline) was to write the first ten pages of an EastEnders script. They provided us with the previous story lines and relevant information that we needed to know, and we went on our merry way. I tried not to dwell on the exercise too much and wrote my ten pages and sent it off with an hour to spare on the deadline.
At this stage, I’m not expecting much. I’m quite pleased to have made it this far and while I think I have a fair chance of getting a spot, I don’t realistically expect to get through to the next stage (the final interview). But hey, I get called in for interview. This is with the aforementioned heads along with John Yorke (chief honcho) and Mervyn Watson (exec producer of Casualty). I’m nervous. I’ve met John Yorke before, he’s a really nice bloke, but the interview completely throws me and I fall flat on my face.
They warn me that they’ll be making notes during the interview, so they may not be looking at me the entire time, which is fine but as I try to answer their questions (“why do you want to be a TV writer?” “what went wrong with EastEnders?” “should the audience feel happy or sad?”) I notice that they’re not taking any notes at all, and they’re staring into space. I’m unnerved. John Yorke looks bored. Shit. I begin to second guess myself. Some of the questions they ask cover what we spoke about at the workshop so I wonder if they want me to reiterate or come up with something new to say. I blather between the two. Mervyn Watson asks me about Casualty, the show I’m least familiar with. I give him generic observations that quite rightly don’t make a jot of an impression. The interview ends very quickly - half an hour (they said it would take 45 mins) - and I leave shell-shocked and disappointed with myself.
Outside BBC Village, I have to sit down for a half an hour as my brain tries to fathom the situation. It’s the worst interview I’ve ever done in my life and I’m truly amazed at how it went away from me so quickly. I feel sick. Even though it’s not the be all end all, the scheme is a great opportunity to get your TV career on the fast track. In a daze, I somehow make it into town and meet my friend for much needed pints. I tell my agent how I’ve blown it. She’s got three other clients up for interview so I give her a heads up of what to expect. She tells me that one other client has already had his interview (must have been right after me) and he shared a similar demoralising experience. I put it aside, thinking I will not be offered a place, but my agent remains optimistic.
A couple of days later, a get a phone call from the Beeb. A phone call is good - rejections normally come in letter form - but this call is to tell me I won’t be part of the scheme. It’s as I expected so I’m not too downbeat. However, my agent’s three other clients all get offered a spot (even the guy who said his interview was just as bad as mine). Jesus, my interview must have been The. Worst. Ever. Must try harder.
Nevertheless, the experience grants me a meeting with Kate Rowland, head of the Writers’ Room, and she tells me of various opportunities (radio, the BBC Film Network etc). She puts me into contact with a radio producer and we discuss a few ideas and the BBC’s submission process (see previous post on the subject). And yesterday, I got a phone call from the Writers’ Room asking me if I’d be interested in a pitching session during the London Film Festival. Why thank you very much.
So, even though I didn’t get a place with the writing academy, it was an enjoyable (really) and worthwhile exercise that has afforded me a few new contacts. And that’s the name of the game really.
For a full breakdown of the writing academy and its schedule, click here.
Senin, 17 Oktober 2005
First Draft Syndrome
There is a real feeling of emotional satisfaction and accomplishment whenever a first draft script is completed. Even if it’s bashed out over a few days, and there are those who can, the author can regard it with a sense of achievement and skill despite its rough edges. However, as the writer, we are too close to the material to make a sound and valid judgement on the material. It takes detached and objective assessment to indicate whether what we’ve done is any good or not, and if it’s ready to be sent out to prospective agents and/or producers.
Try as we might to muster up the kind of zen detachment to suitably appraise our work, we never quite master the confidence to say: “no, it’s not right, I need to work on it a bit more”. Instead, we turn to family and friends, and ask them to be honest and constructive. They’re usually positive and encouraging, and we accept this constructive criticism as validation that our first draft is a fairly good attempt at the story. We further delude ourselves with the thought that surely a development exec will see the potential with the script, and our writing, to want to take it further. We’ve read the books, attended the seminars, read a few scripts: we know our script is good for craft and has bags of potential with its story.
And lo, the rejections come hard and fast. Too many scripts get submitted to the spec pile in an undernourished first draft state. They all suffer from ‘first draft syndrome’ where, if it has come from an agent, they just want to peddle their client’s latest work and illustrate their ‘original and edgy’ voice (i.e erratic first draft). If it has come from a humble writer trying to break into the biz, they usually haven’t given enough thought about what their script is actually like, and have submitted it in the blind hope that it’s better than most. Last week, I read four scripts from one agency and they were all rough first drafts. Two were awful. The others showed signs of promise but nothing that would merit a proper consideration. If these two had gone to a couple more drafts, then they may have had a sale, or at the very least, a meeting with the execs to discuss their work and career.
Most gurus, books and seminars will tell you to make sure that your script is the best it can be before you send it out. This advice always seemed a bit vague and convenient to me. Of course, it’s a sound suggestion but what they leave out is that in screenwriting, a reader’s response to the material is as subjective and varied from one person to the next. There is absolutely no guarantee that you will get a meeting, an option or a prize for sending your script out ‘in the best possible condition’. The only person who can tell you that your script is ready to be assessed by the biz is yourself. It’s where you must bite the bullet and stand your ground: “this is a solid representation of me and my work.”
“This is a solid representation of me and my work” will be the best your script can be before you send it out. Everything else is down to reaction and objective opinion. Here’s the maddening thing though. A script will never be ready. A script will need work no matter how advanced it is in the development process. A tenth draft to the producer and writer (who are close to the material) may read like a flaky first draft to fresh eyes or a merciless reader.
I’ve written two scripts where I got so excited by their potential, I sent them immediately out to the industry. I deluded myself into thinking that my particular style of writing and ease of story would be enough to win execs over the length and breath of Soho. One was a genre piece, a horror, which I was full sure was my ticket to success. The other script was a low concept character drama which I wrote as a sample script to demonstrate that I could come up with an original story & characters, and develop them with care and craft to a satisfying and emotional resolution.
It was a “nice” first draft but nothing that a prospective producer would realistically want to take on board. And most of the execs who read it were people I knew through script reading so they were kind and encouraging in their rejection. However, it did win the BBC Tony Doyle Bursary for New Writing, and Irish actor Liam Cunningham (one of the jurors) loved it so much, he took it to Parallel Films where it is now in development. I’ve just finished a rewrite for them, a significant and substantial improvement on the first draft, if I say so myself, and I eagerly await their response.
The genre piece? Rejected everywhere. No-one went for it. I did get a meeting with Hammer Horror who were partially interested, whatever that means, and I had to repitch it to them with their story amendments but I never really understood what they were getting at, and it didn’t go any further. Looking back at it now, I can see that the script is in need of some character work and more original elements so it is something that I still believe has the potential to develop into a winner at the box office. But I went down with a bad case of first draft syndrome. Look out for the symptoms. Instead of getting carried away by the excitement of what you’ve done, try and be objective enough to get to the stage where you can confidently say: ““this is a solid representation of me and my work”.
Try as we might to muster up the kind of zen detachment to suitably appraise our work, we never quite master the confidence to say: “no, it’s not right, I need to work on it a bit more”. Instead, we turn to family and friends, and ask them to be honest and constructive. They’re usually positive and encouraging, and we accept this constructive criticism as validation that our first draft is a fairly good attempt at the story. We further delude ourselves with the thought that surely a development exec will see the potential with the script, and our writing, to want to take it further. We’ve read the books, attended the seminars, read a few scripts: we know our script is good for craft and has bags of potential with its story.
And lo, the rejections come hard and fast. Too many scripts get submitted to the spec pile in an undernourished first draft state. They all suffer from ‘first draft syndrome’ where, if it has come from an agent, they just want to peddle their client’s latest work and illustrate their ‘original and edgy’ voice (i.e erratic first draft). If it has come from a humble writer trying to break into the biz, they usually haven’t given enough thought about what their script is actually like, and have submitted it in the blind hope that it’s better than most. Last week, I read four scripts from one agency and they were all rough first drafts. Two were awful. The others showed signs of promise but nothing that would merit a proper consideration. If these two had gone to a couple more drafts, then they may have had a sale, or at the very least, a meeting with the execs to discuss their work and career.
Most gurus, books and seminars will tell you to make sure that your script is the best it can be before you send it out. This advice always seemed a bit vague and convenient to me. Of course, it’s a sound suggestion but what they leave out is that in screenwriting, a reader’s response to the material is as subjective and varied from one person to the next. There is absolutely no guarantee that you will get a meeting, an option or a prize for sending your script out ‘in the best possible condition’. The only person who can tell you that your script is ready to be assessed by the biz is yourself. It’s where you must bite the bullet and stand your ground: “this is a solid representation of me and my work.”
“This is a solid representation of me and my work” will be the best your script can be before you send it out. Everything else is down to reaction and objective opinion. Here’s the maddening thing though. A script will never be ready. A script will need work no matter how advanced it is in the development process. A tenth draft to the producer and writer (who are close to the material) may read like a flaky first draft to fresh eyes or a merciless reader.
I’ve written two scripts where I got so excited by their potential, I sent them immediately out to the industry. I deluded myself into thinking that my particular style of writing and ease of story would be enough to win execs over the length and breath of Soho. One was a genre piece, a horror, which I was full sure was my ticket to success. The other script was a low concept character drama which I wrote as a sample script to demonstrate that I could come up with an original story & characters, and develop them with care and craft to a satisfying and emotional resolution.
It was a “nice” first draft but nothing that a prospective producer would realistically want to take on board. And most of the execs who read it were people I knew through script reading so they were kind and encouraging in their rejection. However, it did win the BBC Tony Doyle Bursary for New Writing, and Irish actor Liam Cunningham (one of the jurors) loved it so much, he took it to Parallel Films where it is now in development. I’ve just finished a rewrite for them, a significant and substantial improvement on the first draft, if I say so myself, and I eagerly await their response.
The genre piece? Rejected everywhere. No-one went for it. I did get a meeting with Hammer Horror who were partially interested, whatever that means, and I had to repitch it to them with their story amendments but I never really understood what they were getting at, and it didn’t go any further. Looking back at it now, I can see that the script is in need of some character work and more original elements so it is something that I still believe has the potential to develop into a winner at the box office. But I went down with a bad case of first draft syndrome. Look out for the symptoms. Instead of getting carried away by the excitement of what you’ve done, try and be objective enough to get to the stage where you can confidently say: ““this is a solid representation of me and my work”.
Sabtu, 15 Oktober 2005
Rrrrespect!
Just a little something for the weekend for those who are kind enough to drop by.
Neatly following up on my post about animation in the UK, let's give a "big up" (I'm, like, so street) to Nick Park, Steve Box, Mark Burton and Bob Baker for their script for Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were Rabbit, which (in case you didn't know) is taking the US box office by storm and is likely to do the same here this weekend.
Director Nick Park (Aardman guru) gives an interview about how it all came together HERE.
And here's a quote from writer Mark Burton on writing the script: "It would be a mistake to assume that because it's animation, it's somehow lesser. In the modern world, animation feature writing is as sophisticated and challenging as live-action writing. Unfortunately, the animation companies don't recognize that in terms of the deal that they have with the WGA, but that's another issue."
I couldn't agree more. I've written two animation features - one an adaptation of Andrew Davies's children's book Conrad's War - and the whole process and style of the screenplay was exactly as if I was writing a live-action drama or whatever. For some reason, people get it in their head that writing for animation is a different skill but it's not. It's the writer's job to tell the story - it's the animator's specific skill to bring it to life. The only differentiation between 'proper' scriptwriting and animation that I can think of is that you can truly let your imagination run riot and it won't effect the budget (exotic locations, rules of reality etc). However, it's got to be true to the characters and story you're telling, so all the basic issues of craft come into play.
Have a great weekend all. See you Monday.
DS
Neatly following up on my post about animation in the UK, let's give a "big up" (I'm, like, so street) to Nick Park, Steve Box, Mark Burton and Bob Baker for their script for Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were Rabbit, which (in case you didn't know) is taking the US box office by storm and is likely to do the same here this weekend.
Director Nick Park (Aardman guru) gives an interview about how it all came together HERE.
And here's a quote from writer Mark Burton on writing the script: "It would be a mistake to assume that because it's animation, it's somehow lesser. In the modern world, animation feature writing is as sophisticated and challenging as live-action writing. Unfortunately, the animation companies don't recognize that in terms of the deal that they have with the WGA, but that's another issue."
I couldn't agree more. I've written two animation features - one an adaptation of Andrew Davies's children's book Conrad's War - and the whole process and style of the screenplay was exactly as if I was writing a live-action drama or whatever. For some reason, people get it in their head that writing for animation is a different skill but it's not. It's the writer's job to tell the story - it's the animator's specific skill to bring it to life. The only differentiation between 'proper' scriptwriting and animation that I can think of is that you can truly let your imagination run riot and it won't effect the budget (exotic locations, rules of reality etc). However, it's got to be true to the characters and story you're telling, so all the basic issues of craft come into play.
Have a great weekend all. See you Monday.
DS
Kamis, 13 Oktober 2005
Animation UK
Animation as a storytelling medium has hit a new height thanks to the success of Pixar’s CGI extravaganzas. Traditional two-dimensional animation (say in the mould of Disney) is currently out of favour but generally now, more than ever, the colour of cartoons is enjoying something of a story renaissance in terms of audience awareness and demand.
But that’s pretty much in the USA. What’s it like here?
The animation industry is divided into two camps: pre-school animation up to 12 years old and more adult experimental fare that you can expect to see only on Channel 4. There is the beginnings of an animation studio being attempted with Vanguard Films (through Ealing Studios), producers of Valiant, and of course, there’s the growing success of Aardman Animation and Nick Park’s glorious plastercine inventions of Wallace & Gromit. But that’s pretty much all we’ve got in terms of features.
Writing opportunites are fairly limited as penning an animation spec is nigh on impossible to get off the ground and the main place to get an animation gig will be for TV. Ah yes, TV, lots of kids’ shows, great! However, if you don’t write for children, is there anything else you can do? Occasionally, you will get adult animation comedy on TV - Stressed Eric, 2DTV - but the writing will usually be led by known or up-and-coming comedy writers so that usually leaves you, the humble jobbing writer, by the wayside. But hold on, remember what I said about Channel 4 - more adult experimental fare - what’s all that about?
Channel 4 used to have an animation department that gave UK animators their first break and encouraged them to make bold, exciting and entertaining films. Everything from Christmas classic The Snowman right through to Oscar winning short films. However, the actual appetite for animation at the channel was fairly slim and in 2000, the department was disbanded (just when they were about to commission an animation short I had written, goddamit). Nevertheless, the channel thankfully continues to support the three main animation schemes that give new and experienced UK animators a chance to make their films:-
A.I.R (Animator-in-Residence): This is a scheme for new animators to cut their teeth on their first animation short. What’s unique about the scheme is that the animator has to develop and produce the film in a transparent booth that can be viewed by the public. For years, this was located in London’s IMAX Cinema but now the scheme has moved to the slightly less glamorous climbs of Bradford (the National Museum of Photography, Film & Television in Leeds). The scheme encourages understanding and appreciation of the craft of animation and storytelling, and should be the first port of call for all graduate animators.
animate! is the more experimental scheme where animators get a chance to be more bold and adventurous, to push the boundary and form of animation to the limit. These tend to be more artistic and sometimes esoteric films but are still often a delight with their distinctive imagery and style.
Mesh is the channel’s digital animation scheme where you can embrace the modern techniques of the medium through narrative and experimental form. Cutting edge, interactive, digital; now in its sixth successful year. Today, I was part of the panel that got to choose the likely candidates from this year’s shortlist.
If you’re reading this and thinking what’s all this animation lark got to do with me, the jobbing writer? Well there are a lot of writing and script editing opportunities within these schemes because of the various projects that they commission. I got involved with animation through my work at Channel 4 back in 1999 and over the years, the one thing I’ve noticed is that animators are great animators but they usually don’t make very good writers. That’s where you come in.
Fed up with the Film Council’s short film schemes and the apparent closed shop all around town? Then why not think of cracking an animation short? Animators are just like directors, they need writers to help them realise their vision so if you’ve even got the slightest interest in the medium, why not check out the recent spate of animation graduates at the various universities around the country (showreels will be available, you better believe it) and see if you can develop a project together for one of the schemes. They’re funded, they’re broadcast on Channel 4 and they typically go on to win awards at festivals around the world, and are known to triumph (or get nominated) at the Baftas and Oscars.
It’s just an added consideration really to the already limited screenwriting opportunities that are available in this country but you never know, you just might find you have a particular talent for the art form and go on to emulate the success of our American cousins who do it so well at Pixar and DreamWorks.
But that’s pretty much in the USA. What’s it like here?
The animation industry is divided into two camps: pre-school animation up to 12 years old and more adult experimental fare that you can expect to see only on Channel 4. There is the beginnings of an animation studio being attempted with Vanguard Films (through Ealing Studios), producers of Valiant, and of course, there’s the growing success of Aardman Animation and Nick Park’s glorious plastercine inventions of Wallace & Gromit. But that’s pretty much all we’ve got in terms of features.
Writing opportunites are fairly limited as penning an animation spec is nigh on impossible to get off the ground and the main place to get an animation gig will be for TV. Ah yes, TV, lots of kids’ shows, great! However, if you don’t write for children, is there anything else you can do? Occasionally, you will get adult animation comedy on TV - Stressed Eric, 2DTV - but the writing will usually be led by known or up-and-coming comedy writers so that usually leaves you, the humble jobbing writer, by the wayside. But hold on, remember what I said about Channel 4 - more adult experimental fare - what’s all that about?
Channel 4 used to have an animation department that gave UK animators their first break and encouraged them to make bold, exciting and entertaining films. Everything from Christmas classic The Snowman right through to Oscar winning short films. However, the actual appetite for animation at the channel was fairly slim and in 2000, the department was disbanded (just when they were about to commission an animation short I had written, goddamit). Nevertheless, the channel thankfully continues to support the three main animation schemes that give new and experienced UK animators a chance to make their films:-
A.I.R (Animator-in-Residence): This is a scheme for new animators to cut their teeth on their first animation short. What’s unique about the scheme is that the animator has to develop and produce the film in a transparent booth that can be viewed by the public. For years, this was located in London’s IMAX Cinema but now the scheme has moved to the slightly less glamorous climbs of Bradford (the National Museum of Photography, Film & Television in Leeds). The scheme encourages understanding and appreciation of the craft of animation and storytelling, and should be the first port of call for all graduate animators.
animate! is the more experimental scheme where animators get a chance to be more bold and adventurous, to push the boundary and form of animation to the limit. These tend to be more artistic and sometimes esoteric films but are still often a delight with their distinctive imagery and style.
Mesh is the channel’s digital animation scheme where you can embrace the modern techniques of the medium through narrative and experimental form. Cutting edge, interactive, digital; now in its sixth successful year. Today, I was part of the panel that got to choose the likely candidates from this year’s shortlist.
If you’re reading this and thinking what’s all this animation lark got to do with me, the jobbing writer? Well there are a lot of writing and script editing opportunities within these schemes because of the various projects that they commission. I got involved with animation through my work at Channel 4 back in 1999 and over the years, the one thing I’ve noticed is that animators are great animators but they usually don’t make very good writers. That’s where you come in.
Fed up with the Film Council’s short film schemes and the apparent closed shop all around town? Then why not think of cracking an animation short? Animators are just like directors, they need writers to help them realise their vision so if you’ve even got the slightest interest in the medium, why not check out the recent spate of animation graduates at the various universities around the country (showreels will be available, you better believe it) and see if you can develop a project together for one of the schemes. They’re funded, they’re broadcast on Channel 4 and they typically go on to win awards at festivals around the world, and are known to triumph (or get nominated) at the Baftas and Oscars.
It’s just an added consideration really to the already limited screenwriting opportunities that are available in this country but you never know, you just might find you have a particular talent for the art form and go on to emulate the success of our American cousins who do it so well at Pixar and DreamWorks.
Rabu, 12 Oktober 2005
Script Reader UK
Want me to read your script? Check out my consultancy page.
---
The role of a script reader is a thankless and anonymous task but every production company will tell you that they are vital to the submission pile and to some extent, the development process. Producers and development executives simply don’t have the time to read every script that comes in the door and they rely squarely on the reader’s report and recommendation. All the readers I know or have met are usually involved in the industry in another similar respect, such as script editor or writer, so they have a full and frank appreciation of what a screenplay should epitomise. These are the readers who are consistently regarded and relied upon because the other readers who come and go are invariably interns or people looking to get to the next stage of their career or wannabe writers who want to read just a couple of scripts and then go on their way.
To be a reputable script reader, it takes a bit more dedication than reading a few scripts online and thinking you know what's what. Readers new to the process have complained to me that it takes up too much time and it pays too little (roughly about four hours’ work @ £40 a script). And others moan that they’ve read too much that week but the scripts still keep on coming. Well, it does take up time and it does pay whack but the execs have a never ending spec pile that needs to get covered, so the work has to be done regardless of who does it. They don’t care as long as the script gets read but they’ll always lean on the more reliable readers if someone’s going to let them down.
I’ve received a few emails lately about how to become a script reader in this country. Fun Joel and Scott the Reader have written excellent posts about how to become a reader (check the links) and even though they are writing with an American slant, what they say is pretty much how it pans out here in the UK.
Still, it seems worth repeating, so I thought I’d reiterate here but make it more interesting by explaining how I did it:-
I had done a lot of sitcom and sketch reports in my job at the Channel 4 comedy dept but when I left, I asked an assistant at Film4 if I could read a couple of feature scripts so I could assemble ‘sample coverage’. I then wrote to a number of production companies around town asking if I could read for them. I didn’t hear back from a lot of them, and I got rejections from most. Now while I was lucky to have the Film4 contact from my Channel 4 job, no-one else in the film industry had a clue who I was, so what I was doing was no different if I was straight off the ferry from Ireland.
One of Tiger Aspect Pictures’ readers left to do some other job and my letter (actually it was an email) managed to land just at the right time. They were fresh from their Billy Elliot success and were receiving a lot of submissions. I met the Head of Development and she gave me a regular supply of 4-6 scripts to read a week, and the occasional book. They produced Billy Elliot with Working Title 2 and said they’d recommend me to them as ‘there was always a lack of good readers’. After a while, I couldn’t afford to live on Tiger Aspect’s scripts alone so I contacted WT2 myself and again, the luck of the Irish, one of their readers had taken a job on Ali G’s film so they needed someone else. Me!
I then went for a development assistant job at Miramax which I didn’t get but I cheekily suggested that I script read for them instead and they said ‘yes’. Working Title then recommended me to Pathé Pictures and I read for their acquisition and development departments - the acquisition stuff giving me a chance to read the classier style of script, or at least, the ones that were actually getting made.
All of this meant that I was at home a lot of the time, reading scripts and scribbling reports (not to mention writing my own scripts). Because of my passion and obsession with everything to do with screenwriting, this work came fairly easily to me. Sure, it was frustrating and lonely at times but all the while I knew it was worth it for the sake of my own writing and to maintain a continual source of active contact with the industry, however minimal.
It is this type of dedication and commitment that execs and producers are after with their readers. They want people who know how to read a script and more importantly, they like readers who can articulate a synopsis with insightful comments to match. They don’t want glib, dismissive, cynical or superficial reports that bring more attention to the reader rather than the script they’re covering. It’s all about the script, and is the writer worth a mention. The reader remains thankless, anonymous and on to the next script.*
I was extremely lucky to get the Film4 samples done but if you don’t have this kind of access to the industry, it can still be done with the right approach and - cliché police, pull over - being at the right time at the right place. My best advice to someone who wants to be a reader and has no prior experience is to approach agents and/or production companies, and offer to read their scripts free for two weeks. This will give you enough time to gather a range of sample script reports. After that, the production companies may pay you to continue reading for them (agents won't) and if they don't, you'll be able to approach other pro co's with your sample reports in hand.
But if you’re thinking it’ll be a cool gig for a week or month or two, then you’re better off trawling through Drew’s Script-o-Rama for the research you’re after. As a regular reader, you’ll find yourself unwittingly sucked into the routine of dropping off scripts/picking them up. It’ll seem never ending, it’ll sometimes feel not worth it, but for those dedicated to the craft of screenwriting, there’ll be no other option than to continue to read the good, the bad and the ugly. Authors read books, musicians read music, scriptwriters and script editors should read scripts, wherever they can find them.
If you're serious about becoming a script reader, then I heartily recommend Effective Script Reading course run by Industrial Scripts.
*occasionally, the production company may take you to lunch or have drinks with you & the other readers to thank you for all your hard work, so it’s not all bad, and of course, they are pleasant and courteous whenever you drop in.
---
The role of a script reader is a thankless and anonymous task but every production company will tell you that they are vital to the submission pile and to some extent, the development process. Producers and development executives simply don’t have the time to read every script that comes in the door and they rely squarely on the reader’s report and recommendation. All the readers I know or have met are usually involved in the industry in another similar respect, such as script editor or writer, so they have a full and frank appreciation of what a screenplay should epitomise. These are the readers who are consistently regarded and relied upon because the other readers who come and go are invariably interns or people looking to get to the next stage of their career or wannabe writers who want to read just a couple of scripts and then go on their way.
To be a reputable script reader, it takes a bit more dedication than reading a few scripts online and thinking you know what's what. Readers new to the process have complained to me that it takes up too much time and it pays too little (roughly about four hours’ work @ £40 a script). And others moan that they’ve read too much that week but the scripts still keep on coming. Well, it does take up time and it does pay whack but the execs have a never ending spec pile that needs to get covered, so the work has to be done regardless of who does it. They don’t care as long as the script gets read but they’ll always lean on the more reliable readers if someone’s going to let them down.
I’ve received a few emails lately about how to become a script reader in this country. Fun Joel and Scott the Reader have written excellent posts about how to become a reader (check the links) and even though they are writing with an American slant, what they say is pretty much how it pans out here in the UK.
Still, it seems worth repeating, so I thought I’d reiterate here but make it more interesting by explaining how I did it:-
I had done a lot of sitcom and sketch reports in my job at the Channel 4 comedy dept but when I left, I asked an assistant at Film4 if I could read a couple of feature scripts so I could assemble ‘sample coverage’. I then wrote to a number of production companies around town asking if I could read for them. I didn’t hear back from a lot of them, and I got rejections from most. Now while I was lucky to have the Film4 contact from my Channel 4 job, no-one else in the film industry had a clue who I was, so what I was doing was no different if I was straight off the ferry from Ireland.
One of Tiger Aspect Pictures’ readers left to do some other job and my letter (actually it was an email) managed to land just at the right time. They were fresh from their Billy Elliot success and were receiving a lot of submissions. I met the Head of Development and she gave me a regular supply of 4-6 scripts to read a week, and the occasional book. They produced Billy Elliot with Working Title 2 and said they’d recommend me to them as ‘there was always a lack of good readers’. After a while, I couldn’t afford to live on Tiger Aspect’s scripts alone so I contacted WT2 myself and again, the luck of the Irish, one of their readers had taken a job on Ali G’s film so they needed someone else. Me!
I then went for a development assistant job at Miramax which I didn’t get but I cheekily suggested that I script read for them instead and they said ‘yes’. Working Title then recommended me to Pathé Pictures and I read for their acquisition and development departments - the acquisition stuff giving me a chance to read the classier style of script, or at least, the ones that were actually getting made.
All of this meant that I was at home a lot of the time, reading scripts and scribbling reports (not to mention writing my own scripts). Because of my passion and obsession with everything to do with screenwriting, this work came fairly easily to me. Sure, it was frustrating and lonely at times but all the while I knew it was worth it for the sake of my own writing and to maintain a continual source of active contact with the industry, however minimal.
It is this type of dedication and commitment that execs and producers are after with their readers. They want people who know how to read a script and more importantly, they like readers who can articulate a synopsis with insightful comments to match. They don’t want glib, dismissive, cynical or superficial reports that bring more attention to the reader rather than the script they’re covering. It’s all about the script, and is the writer worth a mention. The reader remains thankless, anonymous and on to the next script.*
I was extremely lucky to get the Film4 samples done but if you don’t have this kind of access to the industry, it can still be done with the right approach and - cliché police, pull over - being at the right time at the right place. My best advice to someone who wants to be a reader and has no prior experience is to approach agents and/or production companies, and offer to read their scripts free for two weeks. This will give you enough time to gather a range of sample script reports. After that, the production companies may pay you to continue reading for them (agents won't) and if they don't, you'll be able to approach other pro co's with your sample reports in hand.
But if you’re thinking it’ll be a cool gig for a week or month or two, then you’re better off trawling through Drew’s Script-o-Rama for the research you’re after. As a regular reader, you’ll find yourself unwittingly sucked into the routine of dropping off scripts/picking them up. It’ll seem never ending, it’ll sometimes feel not worth it, but for those dedicated to the craft of screenwriting, there’ll be no other option than to continue to read the good, the bad and the ugly. Authors read books, musicians read music, scriptwriters and script editors should read scripts, wherever they can find them.
If you're serious about becoming a script reader, then I heartily recommend Effective Script Reading course run by Industrial Scripts.
*occasionally, the production company may take you to lunch or have drinks with you & the other readers to thank you for all your hard work, so it’s not all bad, and of course, they are pleasant and courteous whenever you drop in.
Selasa, 11 Oktober 2005
Tonal Matters
Tone is one of the first things I look out for in a script. As the story begins, I want to feel comfortable as quickly as possible so that I can settle into the writer’s storytelling talents as well as his original voice. Too many times, this doesn’t happen. I’ve already spoken about tone in an earlier post but this week I’ve read four scripts whose main problem in each was the inconsistent tone and mood of the story.
A lot of scripts make the ill-advised choice to begin their story in a very generic setting (café, shop, bar) and proceed to introduce the main character along with his/her buddies, where they exchange banter and/or exposition. Already, the script is asking the reader to do a lot of work and we’re not even past page one. The script is expecting the reader to remember who everyone is and what their key attributes are. This may be down to personal preference but you know the widespread advice of give a little bit of info about the character when you introduce him - well, don’t do it. You know what I mean:
“CHARLIE enters the room. He dropped out of med school after his second year but he doesn’t let his hang ups show through his outgoing exterior.”
I really don’t care for this type of description. It can be just plain lazy and - you’d be surprised how often this is the case - completely superfluous to what the character’s actual characterisation is (e.g. we may never learn that Charlie was in med school nor is his character very outgoing).
But more specifically it’s not telling me anything about the TONE or GENRE of the film. Yes, yes, of course the story can get going properly as the pages start to unfold but usually a poor start by an amateur writer will develop into an equally poor or mediocre attempt at whatever genre the script is aiming for. It will lapse into telling the reader what he should be feeling and thinking but the reader will have detached himself from the action because of the lack of mood and authenticity.
This is all down to tone. You’ve probably heard a lot about grabbing the reader’s attention in the first ten pages, and hell even the very first page (I’m all for that by the way) but I’m going to go one further and say this: grab them by the nuts in the first paragraph or even the very first sentence.
Readers have a stack of screenplays to read. And when script after script begins with generic description in equally broad scenarios, readers are already getting bored and thinking about checking for their next email. But when I open a script and the first line establishes something intriguing, some hint of mood or menace or comic quip, it sparks my interest, and automatically increases my appreciation of the writer’s approach.
This is the first line of Neil LaBute’s adaptation and remake of the UK classic ‘The Wicker Man’, which is being made with Nic Cage:
“First, darkness. Only darkness.”
Great isn’t it? No? Okay. But check it out. It’s only four words and two sentences but look at how much it achieves. The first line alone would be fairly unremarkable in itself but it’s the following “Only darkness” that makes the reader take notice and is already gripped in the storyteller’s authoritative hands. It sets the tone - it’s definitely not a comedy - and it makes you want to know what’s going to happen next.
It doesn’t have to be narrative description like this to set the tone. If you open your script in one of those broad scenarios (pub, café, shop), you can still get the mood right with careful visual storytelling:
“INT. CAFÉ. DAY
A hand drawn loveheart gets scribbled onto a napkin. The pencil curves around the outline of the heart but then suddenly scores into the paper a bit harder than it needs to and the nib snaps. The artist, or at least the person responsible, sits back and sighs: a BRUNETTE, mid-20s, not stunning but not unattractive either.
She takes a sip of her cappuccino and spots a hunky guy in the corner who’s caught her eye. She smiles, a big cappuccino moustache, and the guy looks away with a smug smirk.”
Okay, it’s late, it’s not great, but you get the picture. A friend of mine played a game once on a long train journey home where we opened my bag of scripts and read the first line, and we had to guess what genre the film was, and if we couldn’t guess we’d read the title to give us a clue. It might not come as any surprise to learn that sometimes we didn’t have an idea even after the title & first paragraph.
There are notable exceptions, and sometimes a script can take me by surprise even after a shaky start but I think a solid opening where you establish the tone helps immeasurably in guiding and settling the reader into your story, and what you want to say.
A lot of scripts make the ill-advised choice to begin their story in a very generic setting (café, shop, bar) and proceed to introduce the main character along with his/her buddies, where they exchange banter and/or exposition. Already, the script is asking the reader to do a lot of work and we’re not even past page one. The script is expecting the reader to remember who everyone is and what their key attributes are. This may be down to personal preference but you know the widespread advice of give a little bit of info about the character when you introduce him - well, don’t do it. You know what I mean:
“CHARLIE enters the room. He dropped out of med school after his second year but he doesn’t let his hang ups show through his outgoing exterior.”
I really don’t care for this type of description. It can be just plain lazy and - you’d be surprised how often this is the case - completely superfluous to what the character’s actual characterisation is (e.g. we may never learn that Charlie was in med school nor is his character very outgoing).
But more specifically it’s not telling me anything about the TONE or GENRE of the film. Yes, yes, of course the story can get going properly as the pages start to unfold but usually a poor start by an amateur writer will develop into an equally poor or mediocre attempt at whatever genre the script is aiming for. It will lapse into telling the reader what he should be feeling and thinking but the reader will have detached himself from the action because of the lack of mood and authenticity.
This is all down to tone. You’ve probably heard a lot about grabbing the reader’s attention in the first ten pages, and hell even the very first page (I’m all for that by the way) but I’m going to go one further and say this: grab them by the nuts in the first paragraph or even the very first sentence.
Readers have a stack of screenplays to read. And when script after script begins with generic description in equally broad scenarios, readers are already getting bored and thinking about checking for their next email. But when I open a script and the first line establishes something intriguing, some hint of mood or menace or comic quip, it sparks my interest, and automatically increases my appreciation of the writer’s approach.
This is the first line of Neil LaBute’s adaptation and remake of the UK classic ‘The Wicker Man’, which is being made with Nic Cage:
“First, darkness. Only darkness.”
Great isn’t it? No? Okay. But check it out. It’s only four words and two sentences but look at how much it achieves. The first line alone would be fairly unremarkable in itself but it’s the following “Only darkness” that makes the reader take notice and is already gripped in the storyteller’s authoritative hands. It sets the tone - it’s definitely not a comedy - and it makes you want to know what’s going to happen next.
It doesn’t have to be narrative description like this to set the tone. If you open your script in one of those broad scenarios (pub, café, shop), you can still get the mood right with careful visual storytelling:
“INT. CAFÉ. DAY
A hand drawn loveheart gets scribbled onto a napkin. The pencil curves around the outline of the heart but then suddenly scores into the paper a bit harder than it needs to and the nib snaps. The artist, or at least the person responsible, sits back and sighs: a BRUNETTE, mid-20s, not stunning but not unattractive either.
She takes a sip of her cappuccino and spots a hunky guy in the corner who’s caught her eye. She smiles, a big cappuccino moustache, and the guy looks away with a smug smirk.”
Okay, it’s late, it’s not great, but you get the picture. A friend of mine played a game once on a long train journey home where we opened my bag of scripts and read the first line, and we had to guess what genre the film was, and if we couldn’t guess we’d read the title to give us a clue. It might not come as any surprise to learn that sometimes we didn’t have an idea even after the title & first paragraph.
There are notable exceptions, and sometimes a script can take me by surprise even after a shaky start but I think a solid opening where you establish the tone helps immeasurably in guiding and settling the reader into your story, and what you want to say.
Senin, 10 Oktober 2005
UK Format
Everyone knows screenplay format and everyone knows how they should lay out their script. Final Draft, Movie Magic, etc - all the available screenplay software is endless. But there are still a few that fall through the cracks. In my experience, these tend to be European scripts, who format their screenplays in any way the writer feels comfortable. And good luck to them. But generally, it's not a good idea to turn your nose up at the basics of what a screenplay should look like.
By and large, spec scripts in the UK are decently formatted and presented. The US are sticklers for format but here in the UK, writers are probably a bit less concerned (and us readers probably a bit bit more lenient) if a script is written Time Roman pt 12 rather than the standard font of Courier pt 12. Of course, there are those who would argue that it doesn't matter what font or margin they use, it's the story that matters, but it would help greatly if the UK spec pile was as efficient and professional as our US counterparts.
I got an email from Lee over at A Screen Near You and he asked me a few q's about script formatting.
What size and weight of paper is preferred? Is A4 80 GSM okay?
Normal A4 paper is fine. I don't know about 80 GSM but there's no need to get thick and fancy with the type of paper you use, just standard photocopying paper is dandy. The script should be printed on individual pages. Some agents send their scripts out doubled-sided, which I don't like, but I can understand them wanting to cut down on their paper use.
Two holes, four holes or three holes?
Two holes seems to be the standard in the UK. The US system seems a bit flawed to me as occasionally, I'll receive a script with four holes but with only two fasteners loosely holding it together. But perhaps this is due to it being photocopied and distributed at the production company who's getting it covered.
What method of binding the pages is preferred? Braids, acco clips, etc?
Ah, thank you. Acco clips. Could never remember the name for those stainless steel binder thingies. They work very well and are standard issue in the UK. I find braids quite annoying and a bound script is a complete no-no. For one thing, a bound script needs to be unbound so it can be photocopied and distributed, and when I had to do this at Channel 4, I got very irritated indeed.
Are there any changes to the typical screenplay formatting (margins,
widths, border, etc) that writers should be aware of?
There are people who could tell you immediately what the left and right margin should be but I'm not that anal. Thankfully, Final Draft does it automatically for me but if you don't have the benefit of screenplay software and are unsure of the margins, just use your common sense. About an inch to two inches either side would probably look okay. Writers occasionally get hung up on screen format issues too, like what to do when characters speak at the same time or how to do a phone call, but for me, as long as I can read it and not be confused, then it works. Use whatever you feel comfortable with in terms of relaying the story and the reader shouldn't have any complaints.
Now I'm contradicting myself with my earlier remark that the UK should be as professional as the US but if looks like a script and reads like a script, hell it's a script. The rest is down to content. What your story is like and how well you tell it. If you're sending your script to the US, and not via an agent, then it's best to make sure that you have all the exact details regarding format and how they like it but while all of this is important, it's just side-salad to what the script actually has to say. I read a script today that was full of spelling mistakes, bad grammar and questionable format but the dialogue was very funny which in turn made the characters more appealing, and the story bobbed along regardless of its format flaws. So yes, get the format right, be as professional as possible, but the story's the thing that will really catch the eye.
By and large, spec scripts in the UK are decently formatted and presented. The US are sticklers for format but here in the UK, writers are probably a bit less concerned (and us readers probably a bit bit more lenient) if a script is written Time Roman pt 12 rather than the standard font of Courier pt 12. Of course, there are those who would argue that it doesn't matter what font or margin they use, it's the story that matters, but it would help greatly if the UK spec pile was as efficient and professional as our US counterparts.
I got an email from Lee over at A Screen Near You and he asked me a few q's about script formatting.
What size and weight of paper is preferred? Is A4 80 GSM okay?
Normal A4 paper is fine. I don't know about 80 GSM but there's no need to get thick and fancy with the type of paper you use, just standard photocopying paper is dandy. The script should be printed on individual pages. Some agents send their scripts out doubled-sided, which I don't like, but I can understand them wanting to cut down on their paper use.
Two holes, four holes or three holes?
Two holes seems to be the standard in the UK. The US system seems a bit flawed to me as occasionally, I'll receive a script with four holes but with only two fasteners loosely holding it together. But perhaps this is due to it being photocopied and distributed at the production company who's getting it covered.
What method of binding the pages is preferred? Braids, acco clips, etc?
Ah, thank you. Acco clips. Could never remember the name for those stainless steel binder thingies. They work very well and are standard issue in the UK. I find braids quite annoying and a bound script is a complete no-no. For one thing, a bound script needs to be unbound so it can be photocopied and distributed, and when I had to do this at Channel 4, I got very irritated indeed.
Are there any changes to the typical screenplay formatting (margins,
widths, border, etc) that writers should be aware of?
There are people who could tell you immediately what the left and right margin should be but I'm not that anal. Thankfully, Final Draft does it automatically for me but if you don't have the benefit of screenplay software and are unsure of the margins, just use your common sense. About an inch to two inches either side would probably look okay. Writers occasionally get hung up on screen format issues too, like what to do when characters speak at the same time or how to do a phone call, but for me, as long as I can read it and not be confused, then it works. Use whatever you feel comfortable with in terms of relaying the story and the reader shouldn't have any complaints.
Now I'm contradicting myself with my earlier remark that the UK should be as professional as the US but if looks like a script and reads like a script, hell it's a script. The rest is down to content. What your story is like and how well you tell it. If you're sending your script to the US, and not via an agent, then it's best to make sure that you have all the exact details regarding format and how they like it but while all of this is important, it's just side-salad to what the script actually has to say. I read a script today that was full of spelling mistakes, bad grammar and questionable format but the dialogue was very funny which in turn made the characters more appealing, and the story bobbed along regardless of its format flaws. So yes, get the format right, be as professional as possible, but the story's the thing that will really catch the eye.
Minggu, 09 Oktober 2005
DVD/Cinema
Going to see a film on the big screen has become less and less of a pleasure. The modern multi-plex seems to be the antithesis of what the cinema-going experience should be. And lately, it is being widely reported that box office is significantly down on recent years. Call it what you will: a worrying trend, a slight blip or just the media's over anxious need to say something about Hollywood. Nevertheless, where once the cinema was a reverent altar to the visual flicker of story, it’s now become a place where what’s on offer is as disposable and dismissive as a downloaded ring-tone.
Things I would ban from the cinema: Popcorn. Rustle-sweets/packets of any description. Teenage groups that number more than four. Mobile phones, a complete ban, not just those Orange adverts that amusingly tell us to ‘switch them off’.
Is it just me? Am I getting old? Audiences seem far more restless and disinterested at the flicks than ever before, and they end up ruining the film for everyone else. I don’t get it. They’ve paid for their tickets, obtained their kilo of popcorn, so why don’t they sit still, shut up and focus on the film? Don’t get me started on mobile phones. No-one turns them off, they put them on ‘silent’. The problem with this is that they can’t stop themselves from checking for messages or missed calls every few minutes, resulting in their display lighting up and really distracting your attention. Have we really developed into such a solipsistic state of self-importance that we dare not miss a call from our friend Dave who’s in Cinema 2 checking out Wallace & Gromit?
The growth and demand of the DVD market is pushing cinema into the sidelines. At home, everyone seems to have state of the art surround-sound TVs - plasma screens for those who earn a deep crust - and all we have to do is wait three/four months before the latest blockbuster becomes available for rental. But what I love about the DVD experience is the ‘extras’, and in particular, the DVD commentary. I can’t get enough of them and I won’t purchase a DVD unless it has at least one commentary track.
I’m a complete anorak for what the writer/director/cast have to say about the script and the making of the film. One of my favourites is with Lem Dobbs (writer) and Steven Soderbergh (director) as they intelligently bicker about the making of The Limey, and one of my least favourites is Tim Burton’s luvvie-gush on Sleepy Hollow. I was basking in the series four box-set of Six Feet Under the other day (birthday pressie) and, as is my habit, I listened to all of the commentaries first before I prepare to watch the series as a whole.
The controversial episode of last season involved David Fisher being taken hostage by a sociopath hitchhiker. Director Alan Poul (the co-show runner along side Alan Ball) provided a commentary on how and why they did the story the way they did it. At one point, he made reference to David’s character and said something like: “It’s about putting something out there into the world, expecting or hoping for a particular reaction, but often it comes back to smack us in the face, quite unfairly and unforgiving.”
I’m paraphrasing here but even though Mr Poul was talking about David’s inner-motivation, it struck me as a perfect representation of what it’s like when you finish a script: you think you’ve done a good job and written it with the best intentions, you hope people are going to like it and you 'put it out there'. But unfortunately the truth is that they’re probably going to grab it and tear it to bits, crushing your ego and sensitivity to pieces.
My appreciation of DVD commentaries grows while my urge to attend the cinema diminshes with each visit. I saw Oliver Twist today and I was confident that it would be a respectful crowd who would want to watch the film. Who was I kidding? Mobile phone displays, chatty teenagers, restless children, toilet breaks, sweet wrappers and that ghastly popcorn smell all resulted in a less than satisfying experience of the film. It seems the cinema is developing a commentary track of unsettled audiences and messy auditoriums, pushing me more and more into my DVD habit. Curmudgeon critic or sign of the times?
(Christopher Moltisanti in The Sopranos when he wanted to be a screenwriter: “I love the movies. That popcorn smell. I get high on that”.)
Things I would ban from the cinema: Popcorn. Rustle-sweets/packets of any description. Teenage groups that number more than four. Mobile phones, a complete ban, not just those Orange adverts that amusingly tell us to ‘switch them off’.
Is it just me? Am I getting old? Audiences seem far more restless and disinterested at the flicks than ever before, and they end up ruining the film for everyone else. I don’t get it. They’ve paid for their tickets, obtained their kilo of popcorn, so why don’t they sit still, shut up and focus on the film? Don’t get me started on mobile phones. No-one turns them off, they put them on ‘silent’. The problem with this is that they can’t stop themselves from checking for messages or missed calls every few minutes, resulting in their display lighting up and really distracting your attention. Have we really developed into such a solipsistic state of self-importance that we dare not miss a call from our friend Dave who’s in Cinema 2 checking out Wallace & Gromit?
The growth and demand of the DVD market is pushing cinema into the sidelines. At home, everyone seems to have state of the art surround-sound TVs - plasma screens for those who earn a deep crust - and all we have to do is wait three/four months before the latest blockbuster becomes available for rental. But what I love about the DVD experience is the ‘extras’, and in particular, the DVD commentary. I can’t get enough of them and I won’t purchase a DVD unless it has at least one commentary track.
I’m a complete anorak for what the writer/director/cast have to say about the script and the making of the film. One of my favourites is with Lem Dobbs (writer) and Steven Soderbergh (director) as they intelligently bicker about the making of The Limey, and one of my least favourites is Tim Burton’s luvvie-gush on Sleepy Hollow. I was basking in the series four box-set of Six Feet Under the other day (birthday pressie) and, as is my habit, I listened to all of the commentaries first before I prepare to watch the series as a whole.
The controversial episode of last season involved David Fisher being taken hostage by a sociopath hitchhiker. Director Alan Poul (the co-show runner along side Alan Ball) provided a commentary on how and why they did the story the way they did it. At one point, he made reference to David’s character and said something like: “It’s about putting something out there into the world, expecting or hoping for a particular reaction, but often it comes back to smack us in the face, quite unfairly and unforgiving.”
I’m paraphrasing here but even though Mr Poul was talking about David’s inner-motivation, it struck me as a perfect representation of what it’s like when you finish a script: you think you’ve done a good job and written it with the best intentions, you hope people are going to like it and you 'put it out there'. But unfortunately the truth is that they’re probably going to grab it and tear it to bits, crushing your ego and sensitivity to pieces.
My appreciation of DVD commentaries grows while my urge to attend the cinema diminshes with each visit. I saw Oliver Twist today and I was confident that it would be a respectful crowd who would want to watch the film. Who was I kidding? Mobile phone displays, chatty teenagers, restless children, toilet breaks, sweet wrappers and that ghastly popcorn smell all resulted in a less than satisfying experience of the film. It seems the cinema is developing a commentary track of unsettled audiences and messy auditoriums, pushing me more and more into my DVD habit. Curmudgeon critic or sign of the times?
(Christopher Moltisanti in The Sopranos when he wanted to be a screenwriter: “I love the movies. That popcorn smell. I get high on that”.)
Jumat, 07 Oktober 2005
Tattoos
Just had lunch with my friend Chris Shepherd, who is an extremely talented animator/director. If you've never heard of him, check out his multi-award winning animation short of last year - Dad's Dead - at www.dadsdead.com (I think, I'm typing this in an internet café).
His production offices (Slinky Pics) are in the Truman Brewery right by Brick Lane and behind Spitafield market (near Liverpool Street station for our overseas readers). As I was walking along to meet him, the place was heaving with trendy east end folk having lunch and looking gorgeous dahling. The market was alive with colour, sound and smell and it reminded me that I really must get out of the house more. What was most striking was the hundreds, literally, of brawny bikers queueing (sp?) for a Tattoo Convention! Don't know what a Tattoo Convention means exactly but judging from the bulging muscle and elaborate tattoos everywhere you looked, it certainly made for an interesting stroll.
Lunch was lovely, a no-nonsense east end caff, and I hadn't seen Chris in ages, so it was great to catch up. He's been beavering away for ages now on his animation projects (he's written, produced and directed dozens) but is taking the steps towards live-action films at the moment. The industry became very aware of him last year with the success of Dad's Dead but he's still had to rely on himself, on his own vision and drive to get his projects off the ground. And it got us both talking about how difficult it is, how no-one's going to hand you anything or do you a favour, and that it's a daily onslaught of rejection and resilience.
What tattoo would best represent that I wonder?
His production offices (Slinky Pics) are in the Truman Brewery right by Brick Lane and behind Spitafield market (near Liverpool Street station for our overseas readers). As I was walking along to meet him, the place was heaving with trendy east end folk having lunch and looking gorgeous dahling. The market was alive with colour, sound and smell and it reminded me that I really must get out of the house more. What was most striking was the hundreds, literally, of brawny bikers queueing (sp?) for a Tattoo Convention! Don't know what a Tattoo Convention means exactly but judging from the bulging muscle and elaborate tattoos everywhere you looked, it certainly made for an interesting stroll.
Lunch was lovely, a no-nonsense east end caff, and I hadn't seen Chris in ages, so it was great to catch up. He's been beavering away for ages now on his animation projects (he's written, produced and directed dozens) but is taking the steps towards live-action films at the moment. The industry became very aware of him last year with the success of Dad's Dead but he's still had to rely on himself, on his own vision and drive to get his projects off the ground. And it got us both talking about how difficult it is, how no-one's going to hand you anything or do you a favour, and that it's a daily onslaught of rejection and resilience.
What tattoo would best represent that I wonder?
Rabu, 05 Oktober 2005
Process
You may read screenwriting articles and advice about how to prepare and write your script. Research, notes, character biographies, exploring the setting, writing the outline/structure of the story. Outline, outline, outline, outline. Most advice gets hung up on this issue. They say that you must sit down and work out all the beats of your story in the outline so that you know what to write when you sit down at your computer (see previous post about 'professional documents' to check out what an outline actually is).
Now with all screenwriting mantras and rules, this is to be taken with a pinch of salt. If you don't outline, it doesn't mean that your script will be an aimless and structureless wreck. Your talents as a storyteller should ensure otherwise (you hope). There are obvious benefits to charting out your story in all the relevant detail beforehand as it makes writing the screenplay a less daunting and challenging task whenever you hit a spot going: "what am I doing? where am I at?".
I enjoy the two sides of the outline argument. Sometimes I outline, and enjoy it, and write an okay first draft, other times I just wing it, with equal success. It's interesting to note that in writing for television - you have to write an outline before you proceed to script stage. You have no choice. The script editor, producer and series producer want a good idea of what you're going to write before you actually write it (and pay you for the privilege). This outline is often referred to as a 'Step Outline' or a 'Scene by Scene breakdown' where you describe the key elements of each scene.
Most writers probably avoid this approach for their screenplays. Which is fair enough - as I say, I'm not saying one or the other. I think having a broad outline of the story is always a good idea, so you have some sense of the finishing line, and then let your creative impulses to surprise you along the way. But sometimes, the creative process doesn't work like that and there's nothing better than sitting down to the blinking cursor on a blank page and letting rip. In my scripts, half have been outlined and preppped, the others developed from a seed of an idea or character that I was interested in.
The script that won the BBC Tony Doyle Bursary last year was written on the hoof. I let the story and characters dictate where they wanted to go. The result was a well-written script that won the award but not entirely satisfactory as a dramatic experience (still, as a first draft, I was very pleased). The script was optioned by Irish actor Liam Cunningham and Parallel Films, and armed with their notes, I went back to the drawing board of 'scene by scene' so I could chart out the drama and structure to a more professional level.
The combination of the 'free story' approach and lateral preparation has been great, and it's increased my overall attachment and love of the project as a whole. Not all my projects have originated or developed in this way but I feel comfortable with the various processes available, so taking the right approach when you need it is the key. Don't be swayed by the gurus or any hard rule that they say must be obeyed. If you can write great stuff but without an outline or whatever, then keep spinning that magic baby.
Now with all screenwriting mantras and rules, this is to be taken with a pinch of salt. If you don't outline, it doesn't mean that your script will be an aimless and structureless wreck. Your talents as a storyteller should ensure otherwise (you hope). There are obvious benefits to charting out your story in all the relevant detail beforehand as it makes writing the screenplay a less daunting and challenging task whenever you hit a spot going: "what am I doing? where am I at?".
I enjoy the two sides of the outline argument. Sometimes I outline, and enjoy it, and write an okay first draft, other times I just wing it, with equal success. It's interesting to note that in writing for television - you have to write an outline before you proceed to script stage. You have no choice. The script editor, producer and series producer want a good idea of what you're going to write before you actually write it (and pay you for the privilege). This outline is often referred to as a 'Step Outline' or a 'Scene by Scene breakdown' where you describe the key elements of each scene.
Most writers probably avoid this approach for their screenplays. Which is fair enough - as I say, I'm not saying one or the other. I think having a broad outline of the story is always a good idea, so you have some sense of the finishing line, and then let your creative impulses to surprise you along the way. But sometimes, the creative process doesn't work like that and there's nothing better than sitting down to the blinking cursor on a blank page and letting rip. In my scripts, half have been outlined and preppped, the others developed from a seed of an idea or character that I was interested in.
The script that won the BBC Tony Doyle Bursary last year was written on the hoof. I let the story and characters dictate where they wanted to go. The result was a well-written script that won the award but not entirely satisfactory as a dramatic experience (still, as a first draft, I was very pleased). The script was optioned by Irish actor Liam Cunningham and Parallel Films, and armed with their notes, I went back to the drawing board of 'scene by scene' so I could chart out the drama and structure to a more professional level.
The combination of the 'free story' approach and lateral preparation has been great, and it's increased my overall attachment and love of the project as a whole. Not all my projects have originated or developed in this way but I feel comfortable with the various processes available, so taking the right approach when you need it is the key. Don't be swayed by the gurus or any hard rule that they say must be obeyed. If you can write great stuff but without an outline or whatever, then keep spinning that magic baby.
Selasa, 04 Oktober 2005
Represented
Once you do manage to nab an agent, get ready to sit back and watch those assignments and offers roll in, right? Right?
If only it were so. Getting an agent is an important step in your career as it validates you as a writer, and your name and work gets known around town as the agent begins to do his/her spin. But while it is commonly accepted in America that an agent will get you work, here in the UK it is a wholly different matter. The reality (and I’m sure it must be like this in the US as well but they don’t say it as much) is that having an agent is not a guarantee that you will get work, ever.
I read a columnist in a screenwriting magazine once who gave the advice that if your agent hasn’t got you work within 90 days of representation, then you should fire his ass. What? Are you nuts?? In the UK, this would be total career suicide. An inept understanding of the producing process and commissioning system on this fair island. This is where the whole agent issue gets interesting. Before you had one, you couldn’t get their interest because of your lack of work but now you do have one, the situation hasn’t changed much despite their best efforts to ‘get you out there’.
In ‘How to Get An Agent’, I mentioned that most successful scriptwriters will have found a way to work in the system regardless of representation or reputation. They will have wangled a TV deal of some sort, have written for a children’s show, or done a radio play, or made a short film, or something, to give them that bit of clout to beep an agent’s radar. But once you do get representation, it is this self-guile and determination that will usually see you continuing to obtain work in some way or another while the agent will sort out the contract, and thus earn their 10%.
Agents are working very hard for you and the remainder of their client list. They will tirelessly put your name forward for assignments or TV work and get your scripts on to the pile. They will do their best to arrange meetings with various producers/execs/commissioners. But none of this is a guarantee of work. See my earlier post about meetings. You’re making a mistake if you sit back waiting for your agent to phone or to organise meetings or to ask you to lunch. You’ve got to take on the same amount of promotion and marketing as your agent does about yourself.
Personally, I like to try to be as busy as my agent. Let’s face it, they’ve got a lot of clients to punt (I don’t how many but I don’t want to know either) and there is going to be that inevitable period of time where an agent has to wait for responses from the people they’ve sent your stuff to, and in the meantime they can focus their attention on another client. But if I’m actively looking for work myself, and pitching myself around town, and generating projects/ideas/meetings/whatever, then the likelihood of work increases and I have something to report to my agent with the weekly phone call or daily email or whatever correspondence you conveniently fall into.
The main thought is not to expect too much. The excitement of getting an agent is great and the anticipation of professional work is stirring but it may not happen right away. It takes time. It might feel like the next ice-age is approaching when you get your first commission but at least you’ll have hung in there, like a true pro, grafting and pitching and writing no matter what. The agent will continue to pitch you and your work, and you’ll get meetings and be considered for various stuff but after that, it’s out of the agent’s hands and you’re left relying on lucky breaks or someone taking a shine to your original voice or your unique brand of story material.
One thing’s for sure, the amount of work, effort, determination, drive, sheer will and optimism that you have for yourself and your writing not only doubles but triples and quadruples as each hurdle of rejection and disappointment gets higher and higher. Having an agent as the positive coach on the side of the track urging you on is indispensable but once you’re in the race, it’s all down to you and your personal resolve to be a success. So don’t just sit back and fall into complacency or expect an agent to work wonders, get ready to step up your game and grit to the next level, because the amount of effort required will seem like it’s never enough.
If only it were so. Getting an agent is an important step in your career as it validates you as a writer, and your name and work gets known around town as the agent begins to do his/her spin. But while it is commonly accepted in America that an agent will get you work, here in the UK it is a wholly different matter. The reality (and I’m sure it must be like this in the US as well but they don’t say it as much) is that having an agent is not a guarantee that you will get work, ever.
I read a columnist in a screenwriting magazine once who gave the advice that if your agent hasn’t got you work within 90 days of representation, then you should fire his ass. What? Are you nuts?? In the UK, this would be total career suicide. An inept understanding of the producing process and commissioning system on this fair island. This is where the whole agent issue gets interesting. Before you had one, you couldn’t get their interest because of your lack of work but now you do have one, the situation hasn’t changed much despite their best efforts to ‘get you out there’.
In ‘How to Get An Agent’, I mentioned that most successful scriptwriters will have found a way to work in the system regardless of representation or reputation. They will have wangled a TV deal of some sort, have written for a children’s show, or done a radio play, or made a short film, or something, to give them that bit of clout to beep an agent’s radar. But once you do get representation, it is this self-guile and determination that will usually see you continuing to obtain work in some way or another while the agent will sort out the contract, and thus earn their 10%.
Agents are working very hard for you and the remainder of their client list. They will tirelessly put your name forward for assignments or TV work and get your scripts on to the pile. They will do their best to arrange meetings with various producers/execs/commissioners. But none of this is a guarantee of work. See my earlier post about meetings. You’re making a mistake if you sit back waiting for your agent to phone or to organise meetings or to ask you to lunch. You’ve got to take on the same amount of promotion and marketing as your agent does about yourself.
Personally, I like to try to be as busy as my agent. Let’s face it, they’ve got a lot of clients to punt (I don’t how many but I don’t want to know either) and there is going to be that inevitable period of time where an agent has to wait for responses from the people they’ve sent your stuff to, and in the meantime they can focus their attention on another client. But if I’m actively looking for work myself, and pitching myself around town, and generating projects/ideas/meetings/whatever, then the likelihood of work increases and I have something to report to my agent with the weekly phone call or daily email or whatever correspondence you conveniently fall into.
The main thought is not to expect too much. The excitement of getting an agent is great and the anticipation of professional work is stirring but it may not happen right away. It takes time. It might feel like the next ice-age is approaching when you get your first commission but at least you’ll have hung in there, like a true pro, grafting and pitching and writing no matter what. The agent will continue to pitch you and your work, and you’ll get meetings and be considered for various stuff but after that, it’s out of the agent’s hands and you’re left relying on lucky breaks or someone taking a shine to your original voice or your unique brand of story material.
One thing’s for sure, the amount of work, effort, determination, drive, sheer will and optimism that you have for yourself and your writing not only doubles but triples and quadruples as each hurdle of rejection and disappointment gets higher and higher. Having an agent as the positive coach on the side of the track urging you on is indispensable but once you’re in the race, it’s all down to you and your personal resolve to be a success. So don’t just sit back and fall into complacency or expect an agent to work wonders, get ready to step up your game and grit to the next level, because the amount of effort required will seem like it’s never enough.
Senin, 03 Oktober 2005
Agent advice
This from Matt Connell at Micheline Steinberg Associates:
"We don't always actively encourage it, but a one-page outline of a chosen script along with an introductory letter is sometimes helpful. From an agents' perspective anyway.... it's not always easy to spot a good script from a one-page, but it's very easy to spot a bad one.
We couldn't care less about fancy binding etc - 1 fastener thingy is fine. The less showy the better.
Any half-decent agency would NEVER contemplate stealing unsolicited ideas, so we always get a bit miffed when people are over-protective of their material and ask us to sign forms etc - you'd be surprised how many people do this and it gives the wrong impression.
The most important thing by far is evidence that you're a writer (wannabe or not), rather than someone who's just written a script about their childhood/ex-girlfriend/pet dog/grandad in WW1.
Do your research - don't waste time and money sending scripts to book agencies that don't deal with scripts/don't send your novel to script agenies etc.
An initial enquiry (phone/email) is always fine, but very few agencies (if any) will accept script submissions by email.
Don't b/s (too much) on CVs - agents will see through this."
"We don't always actively encourage it, but a one-page outline of a chosen script along with an introductory letter is sometimes helpful. From an agents' perspective anyway.... it's not always easy to spot a good script from a one-page, but it's very easy to spot a bad one.
We couldn't care less about fancy binding etc - 1 fastener thingy is fine. The less showy the better.
Any half-decent agency would NEVER contemplate stealing unsolicited ideas, so we always get a bit miffed when people are over-protective of their material and ask us to sign forms etc - you'd be surprised how many people do this and it gives the wrong impression.
The most important thing by far is evidence that you're a writer (wannabe or not), rather than someone who's just written a script about their childhood/ex-girlfriend/pet dog/grandad in WW1.
Do your research - don't waste time and money sending scripts to book agencies that don't deal with scripts/don't send your novel to script agenies etc.
An initial enquiry (phone/email) is always fine, but very few agencies (if any) will accept script submissions by email.
Don't b/s (too much) on CVs - agents will see through this."
Langganan:
Postingan (Atom)